Preserving Cover
by JantoJones
Summary: What If . . . Angelique was a double agent?


The platinum blonde looked into the rear-view mirror, making it seem as though she was fixing her lipstick, and ensured that there was no one around she didn't want to be around. Once she was as sure as she could be that she hadn't been followed, Angelique gracefully slid from her car and headed for room 24 of the seedy motel. She tapped out a coded knock and went in.

The occupant of the room had seen her arrive so was able to pull the door open instantly. He began to form the question for which he hoped she had the answer.

"Before you ask, I don't know where he's been taken," she stated, pushing past Illya Kuryakin, and holding a hand up to stop him from speaking. "I think they are beginning to get suspicious about me."

Illya frowned. He didn't like Angelique, and he didn't fully trust her, but he couldn't deny that double agents were a necessary evil in the spy profession. With this one, however, he always got the feeling she would work for anyone with enough money to afford her.

"What happened?" he demanded. "I thought he was with you."

"I don't know," she told him. "I had been with him earlier, but I didn't discover he'd been taken until a few hours later. I think they suspect my dual loyalties because I haven't been directly told about any of it."

"Were you followed here?" Illya asked, as he suddenly noticed something out of the window.

Across the parking lot a non-descript car had pulled alongside Angelique's, and two serious looking men got out. They took a brief interest in the blonde's car.

"I think your other friends are here."

Angelique looked out and realised she knew one of the men. Being caught in motel with the partner of a man Thrush had already captured, wouldn't look great.

"Dammit!" she cursed.

"Do you have your gun? Illya asked her, hurriedly.

She replied by fishing it out of her purse.

"You have lured me here in order to take me captive," he told her, before dropping to his knees and putting his hands on his head. "Hopefully, I'll be taken to where Napoleon is being held. Open the door and call to them."

She did as he suggested and waved the two Thrush men over.

"Consorting with the enemy, Angelique?" the taller of the two asked.

"I don't know how you consort, McKillop, but this isn't how normal people do it."

Leon McKillop sneered at her. Angelique grated on his last nerve, and her far-too-overt sexuality left him cold. Leon preferred his women to be quiet and demure. The way this bitch flaunted herself bordered on the obscene.

"So what are you doing here?" the other man, Dermot Brady, demanded.

"How much of an idiot are you? " Angelique questioned. "When I heard Solo had been taken, I told Kuryakin that I could tell him where he had been taken, with the intention of handing him over to Central."

"You don't know where Solo is."

"I should have known better than to believe anything you said," Illya snarled. "I stupidly imagined you had some affection for Napoleon."

"And what would you know about affection?" she jeered. "Your heart is a solid lump of ice."

"Enough!" snapped Brady.

He stepped across to the kneeling prisoner and knocked him out cold with his gun.

Illya awoke with his wrists handcuffed to the arms of a hard wooden chair. As his vision cleared, he found himself being observed by Angelique, McKillop, and Brady.

"You should have killed me," he slurred.

"Where would the fun be in that, darling?" Angelique said sweetly.

"Yeah," agreed McKillop. "I reckon our torturers are going to have a lot of fun with you."

"Just as soon as they've finished with Solo," Brady added, with a rasping laugh.

Angelique leaned over the captive, making sure to block his right hand with her body.

"I do hope I get to have a turn," she stage-whispered, slipping a lock pick to him as she did so.

Winking at him, she straightened up and slapped him hard across the left cheek.

"We'll be back shortly, darling."

…

Napoleon Solo was in a world of pain and thought he was hallucinating when Angelique entered the room. She was followed in by McKillop and Brady. The U.N.C.L.E agent had been stripped to his waist and his shoes and socks had been removed. He was chained, in a tight spread-eagle, against the wall, and his torso was lined with vivid welts. There was a sheen of sweat coating his skin, and dark circles beneath his eyes; evidence of the long hours of torment he had been suffering.

"Just in time, my dear," Ambrose Farley greeted her, waving with a cattle prod. "I was just about to have a little electrical fun. Would you like to go first?"

Angelique did an exemplary job of not showing how sick that made her feel. She looked into Napoleon's eyes, attempting to convey how sorry she was. Somehow he seemed to get the message and offered her an almost imperceptible nod. Holding her hand out, Angelique accepted the cattle prod from Farley.

"I'm going to enjoy this," she said in a seductive tone, as she advanced on her part-time lover. "Try not to scream too loud, darling."

Everyone heard her words, but only Solo could hear the fear in her voice. For all she could act cool and aloof, Angelique could get just as scared as anyone else. Plus, she really did have feelings for Napoleon, and she had no way of knowing whether this would push him away.

The first shock wrought an almost inhuman scream Solo. It took every ounce of Angelique's will not to burst into tears at what she was doing to him. At the other side of the room, Leon McKillop had turned white. The agent's scream had caused the blood to drain from his face.

"I have a report to submit," he blurted out. "Brady, you can help me."

He darted out, with his companion fast on his heels.

"Oh dear," Angelique sighed, "Some men simply have no stomach for this kind of fun. It's just as well you do, isn't it darling?"

In truth, her own stomach was churning and she was in very real danger of losing her breakfast as she shocked Napoleon for a second time. His scream was just as harsh as the first, causing Farley to chuckle with satisfaction.

The laugh was cut short as he was hit in the neck by a sleep dart. He dropped silently into a crumpled heap.

"You're late," Solo gasped, stealing his partner usual line.

"When will these Thrushies learn not to leave our equipment in the same room as us," Kuryakin asked, holstering his gun and ignoring Napoleon's barb.

With Angelique's help, Illya released Napoleon from his bonds.

"Oh, darling," she cried, kissing her lover's face. "Can you forgive me?"

Despite his pain and exhaustion, Solo gave her a dazzling smile.

"Of course," he assured her. "I forgave Illya."*

Illya winced at the memory, but Angelique knew better than to ask what the comment meant.

"We need to get out of here," Kuryakin urged. "Are you coming with us?"

The question was aimed at Angelique who shook her head.

"I need to preserve my cover," she replied. "You'd better dart me too before you leave."

Although Napoleon didn't want to leave her behind, but her presence in Thrush was a necessary one. They couldn't afford to have her cover blown. He kissed her deeply and she told him she would contact him in a few days.

"Take care, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear.

He kept hold of her as Illya darted her, then gently laid her down. With a prayer to God to keep her safe, Napoleon turned away. He and Illya easily escaped and quickly ascertained they were still in New York City. Within an hour they were back at HQ.

Napoleon worried for two days that Thrush had discovered that Angelique was a double agent. Finally, he received the message he had been hoping for via a note slipped under his apartment door.

 _'I'm safe, darling,' it read. 'All suspicion seems to have died down. A.'_


End file.
